


Will You Let Me Explain?

by Kivan



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: AU-NoAkuma, Angry!Allen, Angst, Jerk!Alma, M/M, Oblivious!Kanda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 10:42:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kivan/pseuds/Kivan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: "You of all people know I'm not like that, Kanda. I'm terrible with people. I can't read body language that isn't offensive and imposing- <i>I read I think your cute as I'm going to back you in a corner and beat you</i>." Yullen</p>
            </blockquote>





	Will You Let Me Explain?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, hello.  
> I jumped ship from FF.net.  
> Hope you enjoy this small throw back from over there. Hopefully I'll get up the gumption to become a regular at this stuff again.  
> If you wanna go look me up back over there tho, until I get my things transferred, I was Aseru- same icon and everything.
> 
> Well, enjoy the angst

_One-Shot: **  
Will You Let Me Explain?**_

 

_ACT: the first_

Kanda. Yuu-fucking-Kanda… Do you not see how pissed your making me? It's been a long time since I've been this mad. But even sitting across the room, in a kitchen table chair that when you finally shut up you turned so it faced the rest of the room- you're pissing me off.

You've been talking to Alma again- I'm almost going to bet on it. He's probably feeding you shit on purpose to just make you mad. He knows you almost as well as I do- you two were separated too long for it to be the other way around. Blood brothers my ass- his blood is polluting you and making you stupid-  _Ifuckingswear_.

The last three months, since he moved back here, he's been feeding you this shit that makes your blood boil and then redirecting it at me- because he knows that how we are now, you won't leave me. He moved away just before you went into high school. I moved to town a few weeks before winter break- started school after. I was a total recluse then- Lavi and Lenalee and you, you guys  _made_ me open up. Cross, the guy who took me in, dad's friend; he didn't like any of you- he dealt with Lena because she had tits- but you all still came around.

Lenalee lived next door- we would all swing on the tire swing in her back yard during the summer- we, the four of us together, made sense. You all helped me stay standing when Cross was being an ass, and when Cyril and his wife wanted to take me in- give me a  _proper_ life. I almost  _left_ , Kanda- you could have gotten rid of me then, before this whole mess with Alma started. But you,  _you_ were the one who begged me to stay. Pushed your way in the house passed Cross and his drunken taunts that I know you hated.

And now-  _now_ , you're going to accuse  _me_  of  _sleeping around_. You don't even have a  _with who_  lined up; someone I work with- that about a few hundred people, I work in a publishing company for god's sake. You of all people know I'm not like that, Kanda. I'm terrible with people. I can't read body language that isn't offensive and imposing- I read  _I think your cute_  as  _I'm going to back you in a corner and beat you_.

But you've done this three times since he moved back, in just over six months. I've asked you what's wrong- you never admit that anything is. And it builds and builds, to the point that you snap- like you just got done doing. The last time, ended just like this one.

" _Ya done," I ask, and with a glare you fall silent._

I didn't even bother defending myself this time. It was nearly word for word the same accusations all three times. The first time I got hysterical and in the end it ended in a fist fight that concluded with a black ring around you're left eye and a bright purple bruise around my right wrist and a nice yellow lump on my jaw. The second time- I attempted to talk though it, avoid flailing fists and shit- and after you started accusing me of 'whoring around' I stopped fighting back. Word-for-fucking-word- 'cause this time it was all the same shit and I just stood there and took it.

I'm really,  _really_  tired of this. We haven't had sex in about two weeks, and I'm not going to lie- I'm  _frustrated_ , emotionally and sexually. My hands clench between my legs and my toes dig into the fabric of the couch. The armrest is digging painfully into my back- and I'm so angry I don't care.

You wanna know the truth, Kanda? Tyki, that guy that I went out to the bar with- mind you there were probably,  _at least_ , sixteen other people from work with us- he bought me a drink and listened to me rant about you and Alma and all this fucked up ' _pointing fingers_ ' that's been going on. Tyki- that guy- suggested that you were the one fucking around, probably with Alma. And I stuck up for you. I told him I really didn't think you'd do that- you're to proud to cheat on anyone.

But I told him about how frustrating you've been about this- which is  _really_ nothing- and he asked me if I 'wanted to conform to your ideas.' He asked me to sleep with him, Kanda. And within two second- before he even finished the question- I turned him down. He laughed and told me I was a good man.

I wouldn't do that to you- or anyone- Kanda. And it's not some stupid issue of pride- or being loyal. Probably doesn't even have anything to do with how completely socially awkward I am. I just really don't want to hurt you… I don't  _want_ to do that...

Is it really so hard to believe I love you too much to  _want_  to cheat on you?

 _Fuck_ , I'm crying.

I hear you growl softly across the room- sounds frustrated.  _Well shit_ , glad we finally agree. I open my eyes to look up at the ceiling.

"Get out," I say. And it comes out as more of a whisper than it needs to be- because if I look at you right now, I'm probably going to puke. I say it again and this time, even though my voice cracks, you hear me. The air in the room becomes so stunned I  _know_  you heard me.

The last two times, I've left- gone and crashed at Lenalee's next door, the other time went home. But you know what? Her couch is really lump and her brother is bat-shit insane, and gets up at four-thirty for work- meaning that when he gets up to make sixteen cups of coffee and consume  _each and every fucking one_  of them, he makes  _so much noise_ that it's impossible to sleep on the couch in the next room. And I was worried about pissing you off, so I wouldn't even  _think about_  sleep on Lenalee's bedroom floor- fear of you throwing in my face that I liked  _pussy_ now too, on top of being a  _whore_.

You sit there for a minute, the silence heavier than its ever been between us, before I hear the kitchen table chair thump on the floor as you push it in. You knew a fight was coming- you still have both your coat and boots on. You stop at the end of the couch, and I don't take my eyes off the ceiling to look back at you- I still feel the bile rioting in my stomach.

"Allen," you're trying to talk to me. I try not to hear the confusion in your voice- or the pain- and just close my eyes and shake my head. You sigh heavily. I really don't think it matters to you that I didn't fight back- only made the fight last a small percentage of the time it would have if I had said anything. As soon as I understood what was happening, I was in this corner of the couch with my knees to my chest and my forehead on them- trying to not hear.

The terribly outlandish accusations you've thrown in my face over the last ten to fifteen minutes are enough to stun any feeling of care I might have for  _this_ , or  _you_ , or  _the fact_ that right now you're locked out of your house since Tiedoll and your brothers are on a weird trip the old geezer took them on. Called it your graduation present and the three of them left town for three weeks- you were ecstatic.

I'm even trying to not blame Alma- he's a likable enough guy, just a closet homosexual who would have liked to gotten in your pants about six years ago. I swear, Yuu; you used to be about as socially retarded as I still am- maybe you still are if you haven't realized that he's  _trying_  to break us up.

You haven't moved still- and it's wearing my nerves thin. I want you to leave, and then I want to take a long, hot, relaxing shower and go to bed. So I try again.

"Get out," I say again, my head still leaning back with my eyes closed. The angle makes it hard to talk so I lower my chin a bit and continue. "Get out- I don't care  _where_  you go, _what_  you do- just don't even  _try_ to contact me for the next twelve hours,  _at least_." My chuckle is dry and empty as I lower my head and look at you- my eyes are probably the hardest you've ever seen them. I don't think you've seen me mad before- much less this mad. I can't remember ever being this mad prior to this moment right now. "And by all means-  _don't wait on me_."

I'm pissed- I don't mean that the way it probably sound, but I can't seem to care enough to correct myself. The way I mean it is something to the extent of- if you can't figure this out, I really don't think it this worth my time. Or maybe- I'm not going to call in the morning this time, to even try to make this better if you don't start it. Makes me kinda feel like I just wasted three years of my life; if this is going to break us up, I feel really stupid for letting it happen in the first place.

You just look at me for a minute, you're gorgeous midnight eyes wide against your slightly pale skin- easily illustrating the fact that you can't believe I just said that. The loose ponytail that's wrapped at the base of your neck is falling over your right shoulder and even right now- with how pissed I am at you- I want to touch it. But instead I just shake my head again and drop my chin- my snow colored bangs falling over my eyes as they close.

Maybe your starting to get it. Sluggishly you take yourself to the door, and thankfully you don't try to ask anything else- it probably would have broken me. My heart is clenching painfully tight in my chest and I feel like crying and puking all in the same motion. Instead I pull myself off the couch- leaving the lights on 'cause I just don't care- and trudge up the stairs.

Part of me listens to your little Kia pull out of the driveway and putt down the road as I reach the midway landing and continues up the last few steps to the second floor. Idly I think about how much you hate that car- you used to tell me daily. These days we don't really talk much. We're both getting ready for college- both going to a little community college near town.

Cyril offered to pay for me to go to a bigger/better school- but I wanted to stay here. Maybe I should think about that a little more now, given these new circumstances. Cyril has been paying for my piano lessons too still- the teacher is always telling me about how she's going to run out of things to teach me. She and Cyril are both trying to get me to go to the Arts school in the city- for music. I know I could do it- but up until recently I couldn't think about being away from you.

When I turned eighteen, as my father's will stated, I got everything. This house, his old corvette that's in storage, along with everything else in there- his  _riches_. And there's a lot of them. Music ran in my blood, is what Cross and Cyril both have told me. My father was a Musician- an  _amazing_ one- and he made riches off selling his pieces to movies companies and famous singers.

He played in the Vatican when he was younger, for the Pope- Cyril has the recording of it and was going to give it to me the next time he saw me. Cyril says I could be better than him- if he was a prodigy, I would be an untaught master.

Also when I turned eighteen, my live in babysitter got fired- meaning I kicked Cross out. I wasn't that worried about him though, he moved in with his- as he called her- 'oppressive girlfriend.' Anita just cares about him too much. She's eight years younger than him, but somehow it seems the other way around. Cross is irresponsible and childish; Anita is a well-to-do, self-supporting business owner. She owns the strip joint that Cross used to frequent- that's how they met. She limits his drinking and lets him use her body- which was a plea to get him to stop causing fights between the girls that work in her club. Cross slept with eight of the twenty on consecutive nights and, well, they found out.

Thinking about that nice little black eye and busted lip makes me smiles as I climb into the hot spray of the shower to drown my frustrations. It's too hot and my skin instantly has a bright red tinge. I don't care- it's bearable to the pain in my chest that I have no clue how to drown. You can't rub salve on a broken heart and expect it to instantly stop stinging.

I find it's impossible to not blame Alma for this- at least in part. He's your friend and I know you care about him- and to top it, I know I'm terrible at reading people, so I know I could be seeing that he wants you totally wrong.

I climb out of the shower and am toweling off my hair as my phone- in my pants pocket- begins to sing. The piano into of  _Jesus Christ_  by Brand New fills the bathroom as I dry off my hands thoroughly and fish it out. I glare at the front screen-  _Alma_. I silence the call and set it on the counter. A few moments later, as I continue to dry off, another tone fills the bathroom- a long trill of a b-flat- signaling that I have a new voicemail.

I finish drying off and tug on a pair of gym shorts- going commando- before I open my phone to listen to the message. I nearly puke again as I listen to it.

"Wow," his voice rings though the ear piece- more cynical than I really thought possible, "You know, I used to have  _some_  kind of  _respect_ for you. But when my best friend calls me flipping out because you kicked him out- yeah, that  _doesn't_ go over well. You need to grow the  _fuck_ up, Walker." He laughs smugly, "Yuu could do so much better than you and yet you still manage to piss him off by  _hinting_ that you're cheating on him. You know what, he deserves better than your sorry ass. And I'll make  _sure_ he knows that."

And the message ends. I pull my phone away from my ear and just look at it as the automated system asks if I want to delete it or save it. I save it.

I'm now sure that- one- Alma Karma is feeding you shit to make you pissed at me; two- he might possibly be the biggest two-faced ass in the world; and three- is totally going to try and get in your pants as soon as you get there. He said you called him- and since I know you, you probably asked him to crash at his place. Thought I highly doubt you were 'flipping out'- you don't  _flip out_  about anything. You're probably the most rational person I know, until a person you  _think_  is your best friend  _tries_  to force you against someone. I sigh.

But, oh well, at least this way I don't have to try and convince you that he wants in your pants- assuming you even try to call me in eleven and a half hours, and assuming you don't just fuck him to spit me. Then Tyki would be right…

My stomach wrenches and I close my eyes and try to fight off the feeling. I barely make it to the toilet to throw up the small dinner I had eaten before you came over. We were going to go out- obviously that didn't happen, and  _obviously_ I'm not going to eat now.

I finish barfing and slump my way to bed. I try to not cry but a few make it out as I fall asleep feeling very lonely. Before I fall under I make sure to turn off my phone- I don't want to deal with you, or anyone, for a while.

* * *

_ACT: the second_

A loud bang down stairs wakes me up a while later. Not long enough later, I amend as I look at the clock on my nightstand and make my eyes focus on the green blots that tell me it's 3:22 AM. Leaving my phone buried somewhere in my bed I crawl out of the sheets and lapping my tongue around in my mouth to try and wet it against the acidic taste of vomit I trudge down stairs. I stop on the landing just long enough to grab the baseball bat out of the would-be umbrella holder and make my way down stairs.

Loud laughing draws me toward the kitchen and belatedly I realize I know that laugh. I drop the baseball bat into the alternate umbrella holder next to the kitchen door- which as I drop it now hold three of them. I push open the swinging door and pay absolutely no attention to Cross's bellowing laugh that floats into my ears from the small bar on the other side of the room. He doesn't even notice me come in, but I see Anita look up and smile largely- looks kind of sheepish.

She moves across the kitchen as I pull a can of AMP out of the refrigerator door, snap it open and guzzle half in one go. As I lower it to look at her- she's already just across the island from me and is looking kind of confused. I can feel the puffiness around my eyes and the sting in my eyelids, and my nose is running. I don't want to address it. Instead I smile at her a bit taking a deep breath.

"Hi," I say, my voice more playful than annoyed. Anita's sheepish look turns skeptical.

"Hi," she replies slowly, eyeing me closely, "How are you?" It's a loaded question- she won't take anything other than 'terrible' and an explanation- which I don't want to give.

"Hmm," I reply and move a little to see passed her. "What's up with them," I ask instead now realizing that Anita's bodyguard is sitting with Cross, both looking completely wasted. Anita smiles tiredly and doesn't even look back at them.

"Once a month- that's the deal." I nod, knowing she referring to her deal with Cross- the one they made after he 'cheated' on her the third time. She had found him sleeping with other women three times, in her bed, before she put her foot down and handcuffed him to the bed for a week and fed him bread and water… only bread and water. It was Anita's harsh form of detox- and before she let him go she made him a deal. She would let him get black out drunk once a month and he would stop fucking other women- specifically in her bed, without her. Cross agreed, only because the alternative was that she leave him handcuffed to the bed long enough to pack all his shit, pill it on the street corner and get a restraining order- he would never admit it but he really loves this woman, more so than the others. Lesser women would have a restraining order right now.

I sigh, my face twisting in a grudging smile. Majoha suddenly falls out of her chair, the largest woman I have ever seen, regardless of how beautiful she is, keeled over in a full belly laugh. Anita sighs glancing back at them before looking at me again- sheepish look back.

"I'm sorry I brought them here," she sighs, "Obviously I'm the only one slightly sober and my license is expired- and I wasn't planning on having to drive home tonight." She sighs again, "And we both know that Cross would have my head if I left his ' _baby_ ' at the bar." She rolls her eyes and I chuckle a little.

"It's fine, I guess," I tell her, trying to not display how happy I am for the distraction- regardless of my lack of sleep and terrible headache. And I internally hope that she'll chalk the slowly receding puffiness around my eyes to that lack of sleep, and the tightness of my face to the headache I'll blame it on.

Anita doesn't even try to humor me as she smiles sadly suddenly, "So what's got you down, Al-chan." I blink at her, the tall can of AMP almost to my mouth again as I look at her over the rim.

"Hm," I ask without words- hoping she doesn't ask again. Anita smirks suddenly, slightly lopsided and makes me think that maybe she drank a little too much right along with Cross and her bodyguard.

"Oh, please, boo," it's not a weird nickname- she dubbed it to me a while ago, "I know you well enough to know when you've been crying." I smile a little, knowing she does. Her face saddens a little- I guess my smile wasn't that bright.

"That obvious," I ask sarcastically. Anita smirks, which kind of looks like a pout- maybe she is drunk.

"Oh yeah," she gust and I know she is defiantly at least tipsy. I smile- tipsy makes for great conversation with Anita. She's probably one of the few people I know who make more sense when they've had a few drinks. "So," she continues, knowing if she waits for me to begin we'll be here all night, "You and your man fighting again?" Even after three years I blush a little at how she says it. I nod, slowly and after glancing back to the two drunks that are completely gone on the other side of the room, she back to watching me.

"Same shit," I tell her vaguely, but Anita nods. She listened to me rant after the last time when I was a lot more upset that this time. This time I'm just really depressed. Knowing that you're at Alma's right now, doing who-knows-what makes me want to throw up, again. Anita's done waiting I guess and starts in on another question.

"You didn't start punching each other again- did you," she asks so levelly I laugh, before shaking my head.

"No," I reply my voice oddly small as my eyes flick over the gray specks in the countertop. "I didn't say anything actually." Anita's eyes narrow a bit in question. "I'm just really of tired of all this  _really stupid_  fighting." She nods, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip. She understands this more than most people would I think. It's happened with her and Cross once or twice- though for them it's resolved with some steamy make-up sex. I sigh- why can't we be like that. Make-up sex -  _hell, anything-sex_ \- sounds wonderful right about now.

I explain the situation with Alma's message to her and I actually laughed at how she gaped. "Are you  _fucking_  serious," was her stunted reply. Anita doesn't cuss much, so I guess I'm down playing it in my mind. She immediately wanted to go and strangle or maim Alma, and depending on what became of that situation, maybe you. I tried to laugh at that. I really would just like to go back to sleep.

* * *

_ACT: the third_

By around five in the morning, Cross and Majoha had both finally passed out, and Anita was finally getting tired- with all the alcohol now out of her system. I helped her get Cross and her 'bodyguard' up the stairs to the spare bedroom- in two separate trips mind you. I left her to getting them bed ready and went to the bathroom in the master bedroom to brush my teeth.

But as I was rinsing out my mouth, several loud bangs from downstairs made me pause. I simply looked out the door and out my bedroom door where I could see the hall light still on- thinking I just imagined it. Whipping off my mouth with a washcloth, I quickly switched off the bathroom light and made my way back down the stairs as another round of banging commences. At the landing, Anita suddenly called me from the top.

"Is that the front door," she asked, tone as bewildered as I felt. I shrug and grunt a little before making my way down the rest of the stairs. A few from the bottom there was another round of banging. I grumbled as I looked out the small windows next to the door. Lenalee was standing in front of the door, looking rather miffed.

I click open the deadbolt and open the door looking at her rather bewildered.

"I don't want him," was her statement and then she was suddenly pushing you in my door with a giant huff and nailing us both a nasty look. " _Fix_  this, both of you, before I  _flip_ the  _fuck_  out," she scolds both of us. And we just look at her, because Lenalee cussing is never a good thing. And when it does happen, if she's not given what she's demanding- it means certain death.

And then she pushes us both all the way in, snatches the door out of my hand and slams it in our faces.

"Wow," I hear Anita comment from the top of the stairs, and we both turn to look at her, "I've never heard that girl say 'crap' even." Then she hums and looks at us a little more sternly. "Well, you better fix it," she states- and I know it's also a demand from her now- and then she's sauntering back up from the landing and out of sight.

And after a short period of gaping, I suddenly remember I'm still pissed at you and push you off me all while refusing to meet your eyes. And I grumble while I make my way back to the living room, "Why the hell can't I just get some sleep?" You don't reply as you follow me at a distance.

I flop down on the couch, my back against the back this time and angle my head over the cushion. I don't want to break the silence first as I sigh and you just stand in the doorway looking like you feel pretty awkward. I kind of hope you do.

"Uhm," is all you come up with after a while and I sigh again.

"What were you doing at Lenalee's," I ask, and continue even as I see you flinch at my cold tone, "Thought you would have gone to Alma's." I'm not going to offer the information about  _knowing_  you went to Alma's- I'll just use it against you if you lie.

You don't. "I did go to Alma's," you provide and then trail off. I sigh, still playing stupid.

"So why was Lenalee dumping you at my door a few minutes ago then- not  _Alma_?" I can't keep the acid off my voice as I say his name this time- I know he tried  _something_  and it makes me want to carve him up. But I'm taking you being here as a sign I won't have to carve you too. I totally saw you flinch too.

"Uh, well," you reply. And then with a big sigh you suddenly start spitting information- which you only do with you're embarrassed- this is your version of 'flipping out'.

"Alma is a bitch and was drunk before I got over there. And when I did get there he practically tired to rape me- which that shit is just messed up. He is totally a cum dumpsters and makes that a point for me to know- and then tries to get me to  _partake_ ; no thanks. He's had at least three STI's in the last three months,  _that he's told me of_. Which most of the time I tell him specifically to not tell me- and he does anyway.  _Allthefuckingtime_.

"And not to mention he knows we're together. And yeah, okay, so we were kind of fighting- but that a  _bitch reason_  to sleep with someone else. And I wouldn't do that to you - or anyone for that matter. Not to mention that I don't really think you  _were_  cheating on me. 'Cause if you were- you would have probably hit me harder when we  _first_  started fighting about it.

"Have I mentioned he's had three STI's in the last three months- that's too many. He's with a different person like every other day, when he decides he'll tell me about it regardless that I  _don't_  want to know."

And then I stop actually listening, because I now know a few pertinent pieces of information. One- you didn't have sex with him. Two- you inwardly knew I wasn't cheating on you, even if you were being a gullible jerk. Three- you already admitted you would never cheat on me 'or anyone else for that matter.' And four- you really are blind to people, because it doesn't seem like you understand that he was trying to fuck you the entire time, regardless of him being drunk tonight or not.

So with a sigh I stop you, "Kanda." It's a grumble but you instantly shut up- and somehow you had gotten on the topic of blueberries and raspberries,  _you're so weird it's cute sometimes_.

I pat the couch next to me, in indication for you to sit down. You still standing just inside the doorway, looking as awkward as rodent shit on a waffle. After shuffling for a few moments you quickly walk over to the couch and plop down gracelessly next to me. You still look too tight and bothered. I sigh as you just sit there for a few minutes.

"So you went to Lenalee's after he tired to jump you," I ask so levelly that you look at me weird. It's a look that is asking how the hell I'm being so nonchalant about this. I smirk waiting for a answer before I tell you.

You huff before nodding quickly and letting your eyes fall back on the rug.

"He called me while I was in the shower," I tell you, my eyes replacing your's on the rug now as you look at me, "Big long soap box about how I needed to 'grow the fuck up' and he was better." I even air quote it. You just look at me blankly, as I turn to look at you easily- I feel a million times better suddenly. "Did you seriously not figure out that he's been trying to break us up?" You gape and blink, that alone telling me you hadn't. I chuckle. "And you call me a terrible people reader." I know I am, but you are too.

You only huff again in reply.

* * *

_ACT: Last_

Sun piddles under the thick curtains I keep closed on the window of the master bedroom. I sigh tilting my head a little to look at the clock on the nightstand. 1:34 PM it tells me. I sigh and move my head back down on the pillow, my eyes closing again.

I feel better than I have in weeks.

And yes, it  _finally_  has something to do with amazing make-up sex.

I grumble a bit as I roll over, your arm still somehow remaining in place against my side as I turn into your chest. Oodles of skin on skin feels amazing in the morning, or any other time, too. The thin off white sheet of my bed is still over both of us, just low enough on your hips to make me smile. The thicker comforter is probably pooled on the floor at the end of the bed as usual too. You sigh in your sleep, as I turn to face you and I smile seeing the light lines of relaxation on your face.

I kiss your chest, thinking to myself that if it wasn't so emotionally taxing we should fight more often- provided it does lead to similar make-up sex. Now I know why Cross likes to pick fights with Anita.

I can't seem to stop kissing your skin, every little inch that's exposed to me. You're still no awake and keep making appreciative noises without knowing it. I forgot how amazing you taste. And then I remembered that you didn't let me play much last night. Let's fix that, yeah?

All my kisses have gotten you a bit beyond half-hard, and I've already managed to get your on your back. You rolled over when I was trying to kiss at the other side of your neck. Working my way back down your stomach for the second time this morning, my hand moves ahead and I take hold of your member and stroke it a few times as I move passed you belly button.

My other hand trails down your side and then your leg as I dip my tongue into your bellybutton experimentally. You're always embarrassed when I do that, but as you groan softly I know you're still asleep. The hand not holding your member moves around to lay on your hip, waiting for when you wake up with enough start to impale yourself on my mouth.

And then finally, finally my mouth in next to your now throbbing member. I kiss the tender flesh on the insides on your legs which have now bent up as I played. My first motion it to taste you, the small bead of precum on your tip is licked up in a moment before, I pull my tongue back in to lavish the taste as I pump you a few more time.

And then, I'm licking again. As I bob my head a few times, my hand moves down to graze your sac. But, I'm as hard as your are if not more, and I know I'm not going to be able to finish this with my mouth - I'll go crazy waiting for you to get it back up. But as I continue to suck and pump what I can't swallow, I can feel you pulsing more - getting closer. And then, as predicted, your eyes flash open and you jolt. My hand keeps your hip down so I don't gag. Your eyes are glazed as you meet mine. Removing my mouth from you with a pop, I smile.

"Good morning," I reply easily with a greedy smile. You scoff.

"No shit." I chuckle as I continue to fist and pump you. You growl a bit, but then you're sitting up on your elbow, reaching toward the edge of the bed.  _Fuck, I love you_ , is my only thought as I watch your stomach muscles flex while you reach for the lube.

I uncurl my arm from around your leg as you fist my hair lightly, tugging me up to you. I move so I'm straddling you hips, and we both hiss as our erections grind together a bit. I press against you as you cover three fingers with a good layer of lube. You wipe the other hand on the bed as you throw the bottle back toward the edge of the bed.  _Thank god for my overly-large bed_.

I groan as you slip two fingers into my still slightly stretched hole, which was a lot looser last night. You stroke my prostate a few times to make sure I'm enjoying it, before you pull me down into a lusty kiss. We're never fighting, or doing anything that will make sex off-limits again -  _cause god this feels too fucking good_. I don't think you'll disagree. You begin to pump me as I continue to grind against your erection and fingers in my ass, and your hand on my dick.  _Fuck, don't stop_.

I know, I'm making all kinds of dirty, smutty noises, but I don't seem to care. I don't feel the third finger go in, or realize it's in, until you're pulling all three out and lining you dick up with my hole. You kiss me again as you enter in one fluid strike.  _I'm not a virgin you don't have to pause that long_.

And we're moving, and moaning, and grinding. I can feel you nails pull down my back and you hand trade off from pumping me and scratching and guiding me a little faster. But as we're both getting closer, you suddenly grab one hand to my hip, keeping yourself in me, and the other moves to my lower back as you lower my to be bed to change positions. And then it's ten times as fast, and I'm scratching at your back and clinging to you as I feel the lava pooling in my stomach.

We cum at about the same time, but it's not gentle. It's awkward and clumsy - because after all this time it still feels weird to have stuff dripping out of my ass, and knowing you're not that bothered by getting my cum on your chest as you pull out and bend over me to kiss me silly again.

 _Fuck Alma_.

You're mine. 'Cause I know you better than he will ever be able.


End file.
